Lord Foul versus Smith and Wesson
Posted: Tue Nov 01, 2005 3:21 am
Covenant knelt before Lord Foul as he struggled with a weakness of body that he would never have believed possible. His arms and legs quivered involuntarily. Sweat bled down the sides of his face as if the warm fluids of his soul were being squeezed out like water from an overused sponge. The cool, hard metal of his salvation he gripped with all of his remaining strength. He held it behind his back, squeezing its smooth contours as if he were grappling with the last finger holds of the fatal plummet of his doom.
“Only now, at the end, do you finally comprehend.” Lord Foul grinned slightly as he slowly moved forward but never more than a few steps from the pulsing, green stone behind him. “I can read it in your face, Groveler. No need to voice your terror, your hatred. I am the way and the door to your deliverance. You have but to pray to me. Complete your debasement. I shall reward you with a health and vitality that no mortal being has ever known. You will experience a life of pleasure and delight that you can scarcely comprehend. All you need do is give yourself over to your destiny. It is but a simple thing, a task of exceeding ease for one such as you. Give me what I wish and all that your heart desires most will be yours.” Foul fell silent regarding his guest with arms crossed before his chest and a satisfied expression on his face.
Covenant’s head dropped for a moment. The very idea that he might be rid of his pain and the gnawing disease that had haunted him for so very long made him question his purpose, but only for a short moment. In an instant a feeling of surprising clarity washed over Thomas Covenant and in that moment he seized the reins of his destiny. In spite of his utter weariness he moved. His left arm swung down from behind his back. Covenant brought his weapon up before him and pointed its barrel squarely at Lord Foul’s chest. There was no hesitation. No fear. No regret. The barrel of the .357 magnum exploded with bright yellow flame each time Covenant squeezed the trigger until the steaming gun finally fell silent. Lord Foul’s cavernous throne room still echoed with gunfire as Covenant groggily wrenched himself to his feet. Lord Foul lay upon the ground near the Illearth Stone, clutching his chest with both hands. His regal, white robes were drenched in a pulsing, crimson shower. As Covenant shambled closer he could see the look of utter disbelief etched upon his captor’s face. Lord Foul tried to utter a final insult but his throat was filled with blood. He only managed a stifled grunt as he began to cough an unending spray of red agony into the air. Thomas Covenant could not stand it a moment longer. He held out his gun and released the ammunition clip. The empty cartridge fell to the stone in a clatter of ringing metal. Reaching into the back pocket of his tattered jeans, Covenant drew out his reserve clip and thrust it into place. Three steps brought him close enough to stand above the foundering lord’s head. Foul coughed blood upon Covenant’s boots. Covenant lowered his gun so that the barrel drew to within inches of Lord Foul’s twitching forehead and fired.
“That oughta do it.” Covenant mumbled to himself as he lumbered toward the open doorway.
End
“Only now, at the end, do you finally comprehend.” Lord Foul grinned slightly as he slowly moved forward but never more than a few steps from the pulsing, green stone behind him. “I can read it in your face, Groveler. No need to voice your terror, your hatred. I am the way and the door to your deliverance. You have but to pray to me. Complete your debasement. I shall reward you with a health and vitality that no mortal being has ever known. You will experience a life of pleasure and delight that you can scarcely comprehend. All you need do is give yourself over to your destiny. It is but a simple thing, a task of exceeding ease for one such as you. Give me what I wish and all that your heart desires most will be yours.” Foul fell silent regarding his guest with arms crossed before his chest and a satisfied expression on his face.
Covenant’s head dropped for a moment. The very idea that he might be rid of his pain and the gnawing disease that had haunted him for so very long made him question his purpose, but only for a short moment. In an instant a feeling of surprising clarity washed over Thomas Covenant and in that moment he seized the reins of his destiny. In spite of his utter weariness he moved. His left arm swung down from behind his back. Covenant brought his weapon up before him and pointed its barrel squarely at Lord Foul’s chest. There was no hesitation. No fear. No regret. The barrel of the .357 magnum exploded with bright yellow flame each time Covenant squeezed the trigger until the steaming gun finally fell silent. Lord Foul’s cavernous throne room still echoed with gunfire as Covenant groggily wrenched himself to his feet. Lord Foul lay upon the ground near the Illearth Stone, clutching his chest with both hands. His regal, white robes were drenched in a pulsing, crimson shower. As Covenant shambled closer he could see the look of utter disbelief etched upon his captor’s face. Lord Foul tried to utter a final insult but his throat was filled with blood. He only managed a stifled grunt as he began to cough an unending spray of red agony into the air. Thomas Covenant could not stand it a moment longer. He held out his gun and released the ammunition clip. The empty cartridge fell to the stone in a clatter of ringing metal. Reaching into the back pocket of his tattered jeans, Covenant drew out his reserve clip and thrust it into place. Three steps brought him close enough to stand above the foundering lord’s head. Foul coughed blood upon Covenant’s boots. Covenant lowered his gun so that the barrel drew to within inches of Lord Foul’s twitching forehead and fired.
“That oughta do it.” Covenant mumbled to himself as he lumbered toward the open doorway.
End
